


Fighters

by elizaye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wrestling, BDSM, Bottom Castiel, Dominant Dean, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submissive Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s faced off with Cas in the ring before, and he’s not ashamed to say that he had his ass handed to him. So it was a ridiculous turn-on when, after wheedling Cas into going on a couple of dates with him, Dean finally got him into the bedroom and found out that Cas got off on taking orders, being held down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighters

**Author's Note:**

> Written a couple months back for dom!Dean weekend on tumblr. Oh boy, was that a fun weekend. Also, this may be a wrestling au, but very little wrestling actually happens. And by little wrestling I mean no wrestling. Ahem.

Cas is a fucking badass.

Dean knows this. Just looking at Cas, most people wouldn’t think so. He’s slighter than the average wrestler, small for his own weight class, but the thing is, he’s not only stronger than he looks—he’s  _fast._  Dean’s faced off with Cas in the ring before, and he’s not ashamed to say that he had his ass handed to him.

So it was a ridiculous turn-on when, after wheedling Cas into going on a couple of dates with him, Dean finally got him into the bedroom and found out that Cas got off on taking orders, being held down.

Their first time had been over before Dean even fully realized what had happened, Cas sobbing into the pillow as Dean drilled him from behind and ordered him not to even  _think_  about touching himself. That time, Dean had come with his hand on the back of Cas’s neck, his dick buried as deep inside Cas as it could go, and only then had he given Cas permission to finish himself off.

He’d been kinda terrified afterward, feeling too much like he’d pushed Cas into something too hard and too fast, but fuck, Cas had just turned around and asked when they could do it again, and whether or not Dean was willing to push harder—do  _more_ —the next time.

It’s been a few months now, and they’ve since figured out a safeword for Cas and learned a lot about their limits, but Cas hasn’t ever actually used his safeword before, because he’s a kinky fucker who  _likes_  being tied up and made helpless, _likes_  being bent over Dean’s knee and spanked ‘til his ass is ruby red,  _likes_ getting his ass reamed hard enough that he has to limp around for the next couple o’ days.

Cas makes a whimpering noise, bringing Dean back to the present, and right. He’s got a job to do.

His sub is kneeling on the bed, naked, hands cuffed behind his back, knees nice and wide open because there’s a spreader bar between his ankles. Dean tosses the little remote control in his hand and catches it again, studying it for a moment before turning the intensity of the vibrator up, and Cas cries out, hoarse, but manages to remain stock still.

Dean won’t fuck him, not ‘til he loses control and begs for it, but Cas has been holding out longer lately, as if he knows that it’s just as much torture for Dean as it is for himself to have to wait.

His back is black and blue, evidence of his fight last night still fresh on his skin, and Dean had wanted to call it off tonight, but Cas had actually asked for it, quiet and plaintive, something he hardly ever did, and how could Dean refuse?

Dean climbs up onto the bed, one hand trailing up Cas’s side, and he loves the way Cas shudders with his whole body, leaning into the touch and arching his back just a little. He knows better than to break position.

“Baby,” Dean whispers into Cas’s ear, pausing to pull his earlobe into his mouth and tongue it, “that doin’ it for you? You can say yes or no.”

“N-No,” Cas gets out, trembling as Dean brings his hand around Cas’s front and runs it up and down his taut stomach, tracing the shapes of his tightly clenched abs.

“No?” Dean says, biting at the shell of Cas’s ear. “Why not, hmm? I thought you loved this toy. It’s your favorite, ain’t it?”

Cas whines as Dean knee-walks closer, close enough to feel Cas’s body heat, but not close enough for any real contact, because Dean’s gotten better at this too, knows what it takes to get Cas to break.

Dean turns up the vibrator a little more, and Cas stiffens, a strangled moan bursting out of his throat. His hips jerk a little, and Dean finally closes the last bit of space between them.

Cas’s head drops back onto Dean’s shoulder at the contact, ass grinding back against Dean’s hips, and Dean drops the remote control to hold Cas still, biting back a groan of his own because his hard-on is pressed right up against the crease of Cas’s ass, and he can feel the vibrator working away in there.

“Hey, you don’t get to do that,” Dean says, and Cas lets out a whine of frustration. “You want it?” Dean breathes into Cas’s ear, rolling his hips in a tiny motion, the best kind of tease, and Cas just nods, mouth falling open soundlessly. “You know what you have to say.”

“Puh—please,” Cas groans, his entire body filled with tension as he tries not to move. “Dean—Dean, oh, please.”

Cas has been so good, but he  _did_  move without permission, so Dean asks, “Please what?”

Cas chokes on a sob. “ _Dean_ ,” he grinds out, hands clenched into fists against Dean’s stomach, “Dean, fuh—fuck me—please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Dean says, reaching down to tug the vibrator out.

Cas cries out at the loss, head lolling toward Dean to press his forehead into Dean’s cheek, and Dean lifts one hand to run it through his dark, sweat-soaked hair.

“I got you, Cas. I got you.”

Dean fumbles with the key that hangs off his wristband and undoes the handcuffs, catching the look of surprise on Cas’s face. Cas opens his mouth, about to voice the question, but he seems to remember in the last moment that he hasn’t been given permission to speak. Even without the handcuffs, he keeps his hands clasped together behind his back—he’s trying so hard for Dean today, so this is his reward.

Dean drags his mouth down the length of Cas’s neck, and between one sloppy kiss and the next, he says into Cas’s skin, “You can touch me.”

Cas lets out a stuttered breath, and his hands reach back, finding Dean’s sides, sliding down to his waist. He doesn’t dare pull Dean closer, doesn’t try to push back against him either, but he does dig his fingers into Dean’s obliques, a silent plea for Dean to get on with it.

“All right, you can have it,” Dean murmurs into the base of Cas’s neck.

He pushes Cas’s hands out of the way and grips Cas’s hips, positioning him. He nudges Cas’s left knee with his own, opening him up just a little wider, and then he grabs his dick, lines himself up, and shoves in.

Cas grunts at the penetration, tense, and Dean starts moving, pumping in and out of Cas in nice, slow thrusts because Cas has been on edge for a long time, but Dean knows he can take some more.

“Oh fuck, baby, you’re still so goddamn tight,” Dean hisses, because it doesn’t seem to matter what he and Cas have done; Cas just doesn’t stay loose. Not that Dean’s complaining—he’d never. “Relax for me,” he coaxes, even as he pulls Cas onto him a little harder, a little faster. “Just let go, Cas. I got you.”

Cas has clearly been waiting for this; the tension melts out of his body, and he just falls back into Dean, hands reaching up to wrap around the back of Dean’s neck. Cas lets his mouth fall open, breathing in time with Dean’s hips, and there’s something beautiful about their synchronicity, the way they come together like this, Cas so languid and pliant in his arms, so trusting in Dean to take his weight, to pull him apart at the seams and remake him when they’re finished.

“Dean,” he breathes, barely audible, and Dean shudders, control slipping just a little.

He nips at Cas’s neck and fucks in harder, and maybe it’s supposed to be a rebuke for speaking without permission, but Cas loves it; of course he does.

Dean can’t seem to go back to the gentler pace from before now that he’s actually  _moving_ , and fuck, it’s so good, always so good, Cas opening up for him smooth and wet and fucking perfect. He pushes his cock into Cas again and again, makes space for himself inside Cas, and looks down, loving the way Cas is plastered over him, the way his body jerks with each forward shove of Dean’s hips, the way his cock is curved upward, precome leaking steadily from the tip.

“You ready, babe?” Dean manages, voice strained. “You want it?”

“Yes,” Cas whispers, and then he lets out a startled yelp, fingers scrabbling at the backs of Dean’s shoulders when he fucks in especially hard.

“C’mon, then,” Dean says, and yeah, he’s gotta be the world’s worst tease, because Cas knows he can’t come until Dean says the actual word. “I want to feel you around my dick, wanna feel you milking me dry.”

“D- _Dean_ ,” Cas groans, fingernails digging in hard, and the pain surprises Dean, makes him jolt forward.

“Come,” Dean says, and Cas bursts, spurting messily all over himself and the sheet. “Fuck,” Dean grunts at the added pressure around his dick. “Oh god,  _Cas—_ ”

His vision whites out when he comes, emptying himself inside Cas, blood rushing in his ears and making his breaths echo in his head.

“Oh, Jesus,” he distantly hears himself say, and then he’s sitting back on his heels, hands coming up to wrap around Cas’s chest.

Cas remains silent, draped over Dean like he never wants to move another muscle again, but if they stay in this position for too long, Dean’s gonna lose feeling in his calves. So he waits until they catch their breaths before gently lifting Cas off him and putting him on his stomach. He carefully removes the spreader bar from Cas’s ankles—first his left, then his right, pressing kisses into the red marks left behind.

He tosses the bar and cuffs onto the ground, as well as the vibrator and remote, after turning the remote off. Those things can be cleaned up later. Now, his priority is Cas.

Dean crawls up the bed and pulls Cas into his arms. Cas goes easily, turning to press his forehead into the hollow beneath Dean’s chin.

“You’re okay, Cas,” he says. “You’re okay.”

“I know,” Cas responds, ducking his head down for a moment to kiss Dean just above his heart. “Of course I’m okay. I’ve got you.”

And god, that’s probably the most disgustingly romantic thing that’s passed between them since they started doing this thing that they do, so Dean can’t be blamed for the way his breath kinda hitches in his chest.

“Yeah, Cas. You’ve got me.”


End file.
